


The Advent Of Magic

by dynamiteinherhair



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamiteinherhair/pseuds/dynamiteinherhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gifted (or cursed) with magic that she has yet to master, Sarah Williams has unwittingly caught the attention of the Goblin King, and now she is faced with a life-changing decision...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Age 16: Old Lessons Revisited

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth, Sarah, Jareth or anything else recognisable.
> 
> This is my first attempt at Labyrinth fanfic. I’ve been writing another story featuring Jareth and Sarah, but it’s becoming really long, so I wanted to work on something shorter as a bit of a side project. Comments/reviews/feedback greatly appreciated.

**The Advent Of Magic**

 

**Age 16: Old Lessons Revisited**

_At 16 the magic was born through irritation… and Sarah revisited an old lesson…_

A year had passed, one whole year, and he hadn’t returned to her. Sarah had completed the challenge, without hesitation, but remained so convinced it wouldn’t be the end, even as she spoke her denial of the Goblin King aloud. She believed their story remained unfinished.  
 _Would I have made the same choice, knowing that it truly was the end?_ she wondered, then regretted such self-indulgence. _Of course I would; Toby is my brother._

Afterwards, when her friends from the labyrinth appeared in her mirror, assuring they would always be there for her, she automatically assumed _he_ would be too - he was their king, and he had offered such temptations. She recalled all too well the guileless girl-child who had declared that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with her.  
  
For all that had changed, Sarah was stronger and wiser, but she was still that girl at heart. She couldn’t fathom what she had imagined would occur, or what she expected of the Goblin King, but it irritated her that she was easily resisted, and that he remained so impassive.  
  
  
She had travelled so far within the labyrinth, and known such adventure, yet in her daily reality so little had altered.  
When her father and Karen went out, she often found herself babysitting Toby. They always offered to make alternative arrangements if she had plans of her own - _if you want to have a date,_ Karen routinely said.  
On these occasions, the irritation stung deeply and she longed for the escape of the labyrinth. She loved Toby, and aimed to fill their hours together with carefree, happy enjoyment, but the underlying implication that she should date irked her. 

_You can’t blame them; they don’t know all that happened in the labyrinth,_ Sarah reminded herself.  
  


They departed early that particular day, promising not to be late home. Toby watched Sarah, who paced before her mirror restlessly. He gurgled merrily, and offered her a beaming smile.  
It was a gloomy afternoon; a storm threatened, illuminating the horizon in an impressive, violent display. The atmosphere half tempted Sarah to regress to her younger self - she hadn’t discarded _all_ her costumes, and besides, Toby could dress up too; it would be fun. They would make believe together. A great storm would provide the perfect backdrop for all manner of adventures.

And so she sought out familiar garments from an old chest in her room. She found a red and white striped hat (Toby could wear that - he would be a pirate), and a long gown: she would play the damsel in distress, awaiting a handsome rescuer.  
 _Except I can’t play that role any more, even in make believe. HE saw to that, or maybe it was me? I’m changed, and I can’t go back._  
Far better to be the hero of your own story, Sarah mused, as it was increasingly apparent that expecting anyone else to fill the role simply wasn’t the way things were done.  
  
Sarah glanced up as Toby let out a delighted scream.  
Her curiosity quickly turned to distraught horror as she beheld his latest handiwork. She felt sick to her stomach as she saw the stubby vivid green crayon in his chubby hand, and the red-covered book lying discarded on the floor.  
 _No! Where did he even find that book, when I searched so hard and couldn’t?_  
She grabbed it quickly, flicking with increasing fury through the last pages, now daubed with green and yellow wiggly lines and rough versions of the sun.  
 _He’s ruined the very end of the story - the real end,_ she thought.  
This, alongside the continued stubborn denial and silence from her labyrinth friends, and the perpetual insistence that it would be good for her to date, made Sarah mad.  
“Oh, Toby” she yelled, forgetting her new-found maturity as childish temper took over.  
 _It’s not fair!_ She thought, casting the book onto her bed in despair.  
Toby looked stunned, not understanding why Sarah didn’t like his colouring. He’d been especially careful whilst drawing the sun…  


And then everything started to shake. Sarah looked on with an unflinching gaze as picture frames vibrated on the wall, and several figurines danced towards the edge of the shelf, cascading down, hitting the floor, smashing into tiny fragments.  
  
Toby started to wail, and Sarah’s trance-like state broke quickly, her overriding instinct one of love and protection.  
 _What on earth is happening?_ she thought, moving swiftly across the room to the frightened child.  
She took him in her arms as her mirror cracked and shattered, shielding him from danger.  
He quietened immediately, reaching out with pudgy fingers to pull a strand of her dark hair, all fear forgotten. His huge eyes filled with love for her.  
It ended as quickly as it began.  
All was still, all was quiet. The only proof of the disturbance was the mess of broken glass and porcelain that littered the floor.  
Compelled by some deep instinct Sarah, carrying Toby in her arms, moved into another room, wondering…  
Unsurprisingly, nothing was disturbed at all. Not a single item sat out of place. Everything beyond Sarah’s room was untouched by the strange occurrence.  
Toby patted her arm and pointed towards her room, eager to resume their play, but Sarah, overcome by guilt and disbelief at her own childishness, didn’t want to look upon those shattered fragments again just yet.  
 _It’s almost as if that happened to remind me what I believed I’d learned already…_  
The thought was unwelcome, and not at all comforting. Less comforting still was the nagging idea that somehow she herself had instigated it. Sarah resolved to put the incident completely from her mind, for she didn’t like the implications. She headed downstairs with Toby and out into the open air of the garden. The storm had never arrived and the late evening sunlight would chase away the darkness. A gentle breeze swirled in the trees overhead, almost like eerie whispers from another world, foretelling of great change ahead.


	2. Age 17: The Headliner

_**At 17 the magic was born through mischievous distraction. Not the best motive, but it certainly made headlines…** _

 

As the auditorium darkened Sarah fidgeted in her seat, shifting position in an attempt to peer around the exceptionally tall man who sat in front of her. She settled when she could see most of the stage.

_If I could see properly, maybe this wouldn't feel so endless_ , she mused. 

It was unusual that Sarah didn't feel utterly entranced on a visit to the theatre. She loved the escapism; envisioning another world, another time, made lifelike before her very eyes. She would drift into that world, that story, until she felt almost part of it. She dreamed of the day she could perform on that very stage, bringing those same characters to life. Sarah empathised with them all - the damned, the deceived, the downright drippy, and she longed to play each and every role.

_I won’t just play them; I will bring them to life_ , she thought, as her view was obscured again. She groaned aloud, and hoisted herself onto the arm of her seat. Distracted, she caught sight of the flame lamps at the side of the set, glowing with artificial light.  
  
 _Pretty, but not realistic_ , she decided.  
  
Almost in defiance of such thoughts, the jets leapt to life, spitting a sharp burst of undeniably real flame.  
  
 _What the…!?!_ It happened so quickly Sarah couldn't be certain it really happened at all, and her focus was drawn back to the action onstage as the scene changed: a new backdrop depicted sprawling countryside, dainty white birds painted into a delicate blue sky.  
  
An authentic stone fountain, complete with water jets and sprays loomed centre stage. The leading lady played coy with the handsome rake who could so easily be her downfall. The actor was well suited to the role; he looked the very embodiment of mischief.  
  
 _He looks like…_ Sarah stopped the thought before that name escaped, even privately. After last year’s incident when Toby had been so scared, Sarah resolved to put such fanciful imaginings aside.  
  
She appreciated every detail of the beautiful set as her eyes swept the stage: idyllic, she thought.  
  
And so it was, until the very birds she marvelled at suddenly became a white mass of squawking feathers, not at all angelic now they were alive; they sallied forth in a tight group, soaring above the audience, skimming the heads of startled people in the front rows. Ushers gathered around the auditorium in response to a raised cry, their expressions puzzled. Worry turned to delight amongst the patrons, who soon believed they had witnessed some elaborate stagecraft. They cheered and applauded, then settled once more.  
  
Sarah felt baffled. Whatever these strangers imagined, she knew exactly where those birds had originated, for she had been staring at that part of the backdrop the moment they became real.  
  
 _Am I doing this?! I can’t be, it’s coincidence. It makes no sense. Things like this don’t happen in real life_. She squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable as other occurrences bombarded her mind - the incident with Toby and the shattered glass the previous year stood out, but there were other little things: she would lose something for days then it would reappear from nowhere, or she’d find herself thinking about someone and they would appear, or call her. Little things, inconsequential things, easily explained away; coincidence.  
  
 _Okay, stop it now, concentrate on the show._ Sarah willed the story to take hold, and it did, until the tall man in front started not only moving around, but leaning across and talking to the woman beside him. Sarah was distracted again, and annoyed.  
  
 _People can be SO inconsiderate_ she thought, fidgeting.  
  
That was when the stone fountain, such an elegant centrepiece, spewed forth cold water onto the romantic scene playing out at its base. The actors, rapidly soaked through, could not retain the illusion; something was very wrong, and they backed away, calling out in distress. People appeared at both sides of the stage, gesturing frantically, but still the water frothed and sprayed from the fountain, out of control.  
  
Soon the stage area was saturated, but it continued, pouring such volumes that water cascaded from the stage and out into the audience, raining cold water onto the first few rows, who scrabbled as one to move out of the way, to no avail; they were soon soaked too.  
  
The house lights came up as an anxious cry rumbled through the auditorium. People started moving towards the exits as a hasty announcement declared that due to technical difficulties the performance would be suspended, and directed people to calmly head toward the exits.  
  
Sarah remained immobile, growing horror creeping over her, making her as cold as those poor water-logged patrons.  
  
“Whatever’s the matter girl?! Come on, we have to go!” the woman next to her looked panic stricken, gesturing impatiently, flapping her arms, eager to be gone. Sarah moved, allowing the frantic woman and her friend to pass, but she remained transfixed - the ever-flowing water had by now engulfed the stage. The many backstage people were trying with no success to stem the flow.  
  
 _I did this. I don’t know how, or why, but I know I did._  
  
Sarah turned away in shame, one of the last people to vacate the theatre. She hardly dared look back.  


* * *

“Have you seen this?” her father quizzed; excited and bemused, he brandished the local newspaper.

Sarah paled, anticipating his next words.  
  
“Look” he pointed to the blazing headline - **NEW PRODUCTION HALTED AS UNEXPLAINED DELUGE FLOODS STAGE - Is the show set to become a damp squib?!?**  
  
 _At least it didn't make the front page,_ she consoled herself, gazing steadfast into her cereal bowl, making non-committal sounds of acknowledgement.  
  
“Sarah, isn't that the show you saw last night? You didn't mention anything” Karen observed.  
  
“Yes… but it was late when I arrived home, and I've hardly seen either of you this morning…” she hoped the slight exaggeration would go unchallenged.  
  
She made her excuses, leaving the half-eaten cereal behind, a soggy, congealing mess - rather like she’d left at the theatre last night.  
  
“There’s definitely something strange going on with that girl” her father sighed, clearing away the neglected breakfast.  
  
“Perhaps it’s a boy” Karen giggled girlishly.  
  
Sarah, having caught the tail-end of the conversation, scowled, her thoughts full once more with the Goblin King who had offered her her dreams. She remembered him less often these days, but these little exchanges with her family always managed to call him to mind.  
  
 _You really have no idea, either of you,_ she thought, _no idea at all._

 


	3. Age 18:  A Wish For Brighter Days

**Age 18: A Wish For Brighter Days**

_**At 18 the magic came through a wish for brighter days, and caught the attention of another…** _

The sun shimmered, the sky was a brilliant blue, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in forever; winter had lasted far too long. Sarah was determined to take advantage of the wonderful afternoon, and pulled on warm clothes, for there was still a chill in the air.  
  
She ensured Toby was well protected from the cold for their long-promised afternoon at the park, and he smiled in anticipation of the fun that lay ahead.  
  
Spring was coming, but it was still far off, as the skeleton-like trees in her favourite park attested.   
  
_Everything still looks so dead,_ she thought glumly.   
  
She walked deep into the park, finally spying a large tree stump that served as a natural chair.   
  
_Or a throne - when I was young and used to play games of make believe, I would have been queen of this winter-land._   
She smiled fondly, remembering many youthful hours given over to imaginary worlds. She pulled a sketchpad from her bag, adamant to master drawing - her early efforts had left her disheartened. Sarah’s talents tended towards the theatrical, but she wanted to master this art form too. Toby sat beside her happily, then spotted some ducks waddling up the riverbank.  
  
“Toby, don’t wander too far” Sarah called, and he remained close, having enticed the birds with crumbs of the cookie he’d been eating.  
  
Sarah focused on a small tree that had sprouted the first promising tips of new growth. It was an interesting subject - a good mix of death and life, sleep and wakefulness, and it offered more variety than the dead twiggy landscape all around. She drew fluidly, noting each part as she committed the outline to paper, drawing in the new shoots with delicacy. She glanced at her work, attempting to be accurate, then back at the sprouting buds - they had grown longer.   
  
She noticed instantly that they were nothing like her drawing of only moments before. She stared, wide-eyed as they reached out further, branching into lush green foliage.   
  
This time Sarah wasn’t entirely surprised. These happenings, while still unique, were becoming more commonplace to her.   
  
_A chance to make something beautiful_ , she decided, and focused intently.   
  
She still recalled the disasters and negative impact of previous unexplainable occurrences, but this was different; here was an opportunity to create something positive, somewhere private, which couldn’t bring harm to anyone.  
  
Toby sat beside her, all agog, chuckling in wonder. His pleasure made her smile, and she aimed to make something wonderful for her brother, as recompense for his fright during that first unanticipated surge of magic - she could no longer deny there was something magical here, try as she may.  
  
She envisaged vivid greenery, and delicate white and rose blossom. In response, seemingly desirous to please, the tree flourished, outshining all else in the park. It was a natural wonder, even if it was untimely.  
  
Toby gave a shrill laugh, careering towards the tree; he reached out to the tempting colours above his young head. He managed to grasp one of the flowered branches, and yanked it, breaking the stem. The illusion ended; the leaves withered and the flowers became dusty shells as he watched, his eyes welling with tears.  
  
Sarah saw, and pulled him close to her, drawing his attention to the wonders that remained before them.   _Nothing is ever without a sting in the tail, but I won’t let anything upset him this time_ , she promised herself, imagining brighter hues of pink and red, which bloomed before their eyes.  
  
“How absolutely stunning, and totally out of season” a voice broke her concentration, and she turned to see a middle-aged woman with a dog trailing behind her on a lead, looking very sorry for itself.   
  
Sarah felt edgy, wondering how much the woman had seen, but it became clear she hadn’t witnessed exactly what had happened only moments before; she believed the tree to be a beautiful rarity.   
  
_Something not entirely normal,_ Sarah thought, suddenly troubled as she buttoned Toby’s coat and told him it was time to leave.   
  
_This time no harm was done, but look what happened before. I’m doing these things, but I still have no idea how, or why._   
  
Her thoughts whirled restlessly, throwing up one word over and over… _magic._   
  
She thought then of the labyrinth, a place of magic. Since returning home she’d found nothing to indicate the labyrinth existed beyond her own imagination.   
  
Her friends had promised to be there should she need them; she couldn’t imagine a greater need than she felt now, but all remained silent. She recalled a time when she’d been offered everything, and found the strength to refuse.   
  
_Is that why this is happening now? What else could I have done; surely he must have known?_ Sarah thought.  
  
 _The price was too high_ , she reminded herself, glancing at Toby, who trotted beside her happily, lost in the innocence of childish thoughts, as was his right. 

She watched him fondly, and the bitterness receded. She would master this, just as she had mastered other trials before.  
  


Overhead, perched on a barbed, craggy branch in a seasonally bare tree, a large owl, creamy white and golden, with striking eyes, watched the pair walking below with curious intent. He observed the fair-haired boy, and the tall, dark-haired young woman at his side, a protective arm lingering on his shoulder. The owl’s bright eyes appeared to widen, almost in recognition. It gave a loud, hooting cry and launched itself from the branch; spreading huge, powerful wings it sailed on the gentle wind, high above the heads of the two unsuspecting humans below, destined for some faraway land.


	4. Age 19:  Two Worlds Collide

 

**Age 19: Two Worlds Collide**

 

**_At 19 the magic was stirred by desire, and two worlds collided…_ **

The vaulted roof radiated ornate splendour; the huge, high-set windows threw in shafts of natural light which illuminated it to perfection. The room itself was a masterpiece: the perfect showcase for the many wonders frequently housed in the exhibition hall.

Sarah loved this annex of the gallery, where visiting exhibits were displayed.

It was a clash of contrasts - regularly something new to see, and something exquisitely the same; this room beyond compare. The stillness and serenity made it the perfect place of appreciation. She felt peace when she visited and had lost many hours wandering slowly and deliberately from painting to painting, absorbing the smallest details.

Sometimes she would just sit and appreciate the atmosphere, watching other visitors react to the artwork. This season the gallery boasted a renaissance collection: exotic and compelling, it showcased luxurious, ancient locations; Venice, Florence and Rome.

Sarah became so enamoured with this collection that one visit simply wasn't enough; she excused herself from her friends, who were visiting the modern section of the gallery, so she could see the exhibition again. She delighted in paintings so detailed they almost invited the viewer to step inside them, into the very worlds they depicted.

She relaxed into a comfortable chair beside a small painting featuring a finely detailed bridge over a Venetian canal. It was truly wonderful, and fuelled her desire to travel, but something else demanded her attention, and she was drawn to another painting, for the simple reason that it was a recent addition to the collection. Puzzled, Sarah drew closer; displays were rarely altered once they were established, so the new painting was doubly intriguing.

It featured a Venetian masquerade, captured at its peak - a whirling dance of festivity, elegance, and mystery; the dancers wore elaborate masks, concealing their faces.

Sarah moved closer, probably closer than was permitted, but this painting invited inspection, it encouraged participation in this lavish grand ball on a warm summer evening in Venice of a bygone era.

The women were stunning in floor-sweeping gowns, bejewelled and laced, and the men were dashingly handsome, cloaked in mystery as their masks hid their faces from eager scrutiny.

_So lifelike_  she mused, and was startled from her reverie by an astonished exclamation from someone standing behind her.

"That's impossible. Incredible. Come and look at this" a woman yelled, breaking the peaceful silence. Scandalised visitors cast her sharp glances for her total lack of propriety.

One stern-faced woman was poised to object, when her eye settled on the painting and her mouth dropped open in silent astonishment. She grasped the arm of the man beside her and pulled him around, pointing, unable to articulate what she was seeing.

Others followed suit, turning to witness the commotion, but rendered either speechless or rapidly over-reactive as they saw the painting.

Sarah felt colour rush to her cheeks - standing before what had become the main attraction she felt as if she was under a spotlight, while everyone gawped at her. She didn't see it at first, but a horrible realisation dawned.

_Not again, please, not again_ , she willed, casting guilty eyes up to the painting she had so admired...

The painted party was literally in full swing: the dancers moved and swayed in a lavish manner, in time to a rhythm only they could hear. They moved as one, a sea of decadent humanity, and beyond the vast windows that framed the ballroom, lights twinkled across the city as darkness fell, and the great canals glittered to ever-moving life.

"No" Sarah spoke aloud, attempting to retreat, but a crowd had gathered and escape was impossible.

_This will be like the theatre all over again_  she panicked.

"No" she repeated, to no one and everyone.

The loud woman who'd originally spotted this apparition looked at her quizzically, misunderstanding her repeated denials.

"This doesn't appeal to you young folk?" she spoke, disbelieving. "It's incredible, I would have thought you'd enjoy it."

Sarah feigned a smile and attempted to dodge out of the way, but to her dismay more people were gathering to see the now infamous painting, many of them flagrantly disregarding the rules regarding the use of cameras and videos; they held up various recording devices eagerly, desperate to preserve this modern wonder for all time, for surely nothing like it had ever been witnessed before. An excited hum filled the usually quiet room as they clamoured for the best view

Her escape failed, Sarah turned back, drawn completely to the carnival world that was gaining in detail; now she swore she could almost hear the fine music that kept those revellers moving with such grace and enthusiasm. She could smell the night air, and the enticing aroma of drinks being served. There was a hum of laughter and merriment that definitely did not come from the gallery itself.

_Enough, I need to get out of here, right now_ _…_

She backed up blindly, straight into someone standing behind her, too close.

The world flashed blinding gold; everything spun wildly, and Sarah felt her stomach lurch uncontrollably at the shift.

She realised what had happened immediately, why she'd been able to experience so much more of the world beyond the canvas - she was inside the painting, and she knew, because it was inevitable, who she had stumbled into.

And so she turned to face the Goblin King, with four years of pent-up desire, anger, pretend indifference and countless other feelings she could hardly describe stirring within.


	5. Finale:  World Of Possibilities

**_That was the year the Goblin King returned and a whole world of possibilities opened up…_ **

The ballroom thrived with life, glamour and sophistication, yet for Sarah no one else was present; just her and the Goblin King.  
Jareth looked resplendent in a deeply hued jacket detailed with fine gold. A long cloak clung to his narrow shoulders and swept to the floor in waves of fine material so dark it resembled the night sky. He wore a crisp white shirt, undone at the neck - she spotted the chain of the amulet he still wore. His feather-like hair, silver, gold and fair, framed every angle of his face. His mismatched eyes danced with merriment tinged with a hint of malice. Heat radiated from him but didn't reach those eyes; Sarah was unnerved and excited all at once; he was everything she remembered and more.

The moment of aloneness faded as curious eyes were drawn to the newcomer: many revellers started to remove their masks, compelled by some instinct in their nature to look upon one so unique. Witnessing their reaction made Sarah guarded.

 _He_ _'_ _s used to everyone falling at his feet_  she realised, which made her irrationally angry, as if they had no right to such a reaction, or maybe she herself should know better and remain immune to his charm.

Jareth made a gallant bow, his eyes never leaving hers; for a moment she almost responded with a curtsey, as she had observed others doing around the ballroom, but she realised just in time this would appear awkward - trousers lacked a certain glamour afforded by a floor-skimming skirt.

 _I'm so out of place_ , she thought, flustered. To cover her discomfort she broke the silence.

"You… it was you - I  _knew_  it" her eyes narrowed in response to his arrogant smirk.

"No, Sarah, it wasn't." His voice was deep, velvety, calm and amused. She imagined long conversations, without malice or conflict, listening to him talk in soft tones.

 _Stop it, and concentrate_ , her rational self protested.

He gestured to the throng of dancers moving fluidly around them, breaking their flow to pass the immobile pair.

"Come, Sarah, is this any way to behave at a social gathering?"

He raised an elegant gloved hand. They couldn't remain stationary, blocking the path, and the edge of the dance floor was far away.  
Reluctantly, she took his hand, marvelling at the lightness of his touch. She shivered as he pulled her close; he moved easily into step with the dancers, guiding her beside him, as though they had spent a whole lifetime dancing together already. She didn't know the steps, but it hardly mattered; instinct overtook inexperience and she became graceful. He was tall; she gazed up into the face that featured so strongly in her dreams in those months after her triumph and return from the labyrinth, curious as to how reality compared to her memories. He smiled confidently under her scrutiny; all the while he murmured lyrics she could not define, to a tune she did not know. It was so surreal Sarah wondered whether she was in fact dreaming after all.

"Why have you done this?" She asked, breaking the spell, trying to regain control of the situation.

"I've done nothing at all, Sarah" - she fell out of step at such blatant denial.

"I was rather preoccupied with the kingdom you tore asunder to concern myself with the one you returned to" the Goblin King stated matter-of-factly. A dark expression shadowed his eyes, as though the memory of his once-ruined kingdom pained him still. She hesitated.

"Oh now Sarah, does it disappoint you, that you weren't the foremost concern in my mind?" he locked eyes with her, a bitterness tinged his fine features.

"But… you must have caused this" she insisted. A small fear grew within her; if not him, who else could be responsible for what was happening, and for all that had occurred in the years since they had parted?

"Willingly bestowed power upon you?!" he scoffed.

"You made your thoughts on that subject quite clear. Why would I squander such talents where they were so obviously unwelcome?" He moved nimbly, propelling her towards the edge of the dance floor.

"But you're here now!" she persisted, moving deftly in time with the melody and in perfect harmony with the agile man at her side.

 _It would be so easy to lose myself here, and I cannot do that, I must concentrate_ , she willed herself; it struck her, not for the first time, that she was dancing with undeniably the most charismatic man in the room - they were drawing curious and jealous attention.

"A prospect to delightful to resist" he admitted, clearing their way easily from the dance and into an alcove that led out onto a large balcony, overlooking the grand canal. A finely-wrought metal fence edged the balcony, more decoration than adequate barrier, and Sarah hung back. Jareth knew no such hesitation and strode to the balcony edge, tracing the curls of the fence with light fingers, almost a caress. He glanced back toward her, silently inviting her to stand beside him.

"Whispers, rumours, tales of the human world going topsy-turvy. It became too intriguing, so I started to pay attention. Believe me, Sarah, finding you at the centre of it is merely an added bonus" he smiled wickedly.

Sarah felt dumbfounded, but concealed it by gazing out over the water, to the buildings sprawling in every direction,  _like a labyrinth_ , she noticed, and couldn't help but smile at the irony.

 _The labyrinth, the Goblin King, and a whole host of magic tricks to complete the picture - what more could a girl want?_ She felt tricked, convinced she was part of his scheme, and waited for him to continue.

"You have done this Sarah, and I, well… I want to know how." He looked uncertain how to proceed.

"I've done nothing knowingly" she declared, and there was a brief pause before he continued.

"No one ever completed the labyrinth; certainly no one had the audacity to ruin it once they had. You're unique Sarah. Though I had nothing directly to do with what's happening now, it's linked to your actions in the Underground. I think you took something from the labyrinth, or maybe it was given willingly, in acknowledgement of your unusual status" he chose his words with measured care. His seeming uncertainty renewed her confidence.

"Unusual status?" she repeated, stepping closer to the edge, closer to him.

"There are those who name you Champion" he admitted, quietly, all arrogance quelled for the briefest time. He waited for her response, but none came, so he resumed, the arrogant veneer firmly back in place…

"Despite your ungrateful refusal of all I offered before, I am willing to assist you. You've shown some degree of mastery over these new-found talents, but so much clearly remains beyond you, you're bound to draw the wrong kind of attention" he gave a sly glance, testing her, seeing how far he could go to provoke a reaction.

She remained passive, avoiding his eyes.

 _Tread carefully_ , she reminded herself.

"And in return?" she countered.

"Nothing; it will be a diversion for me, Sarah, nothing more. I believe I could show you all the wonders there could ever be, if you are brave enough." He was baiting, goading her, but this time she met him head on.

"I don't believe you. There are always terms, I know that now; I played your game, remember?" She watched as firelight danced from lanterns suspended from the walls, throwing him first into shadow, then into light, as if he himself were aflame.

_Such illusions, so fanciful. Demons come from the flames, remember that, and be cautious._

He seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"And yet I'm willing to offer… a truce . Come with me Sarah, see what you can become…" he raised a gloved hand. She half expected him to offer her a crystal,  _and all my dreams_ , but it was merely a simple gesture.

"My family…" she reasoned, thinking of Toby, who would miss her should she accept. "I can't."

"I can reorder time Sarah, I've done it before. No one need know you're gone. Time passes as I will it in the labyrinth: I can make the longest time there equate to one of your human hours, if that is your desire." He offered such persuasive arguments.

Jareth drew closer to her, the gap between them narrow. If she reached out, she could touch the fine silk of his shirt, prove to herself he was real, for she still felt half in a dream.

"No, thank you" she still didn't trust him, for all his fine ideas.  
"I want find my own way through this. I  _have_ to!" She turned from him, moving towards the ballroom, and missed his sinking expression. His voice carried clear over the night air and stopped her in her tracks.

"You're a fortunate young woman, to have someone to turn to; to be able to go home and tell your father you spent the evening dancing in Venice of a long ago age, inside an enchanted painting which you yourself made come to life." It was his final play, but a calculated one; it hit the mark.

 _That_ _'_ _s not fair_ , she thought.  _Why do I always fall into the same patterns with him? That_ _'_ _s just how it is..._

 _But what happens when you can_ _'_ _t control it,_ she worried.  
 _What happens when Toby, or Karen, or father, or some innocent bystander becomes entangled in this web you don_ _'_ _t understand. Who else would believe even half of this?! Who wouldn't find it frightening: shattered glass, rumbling walls, flooded theatres?_ She turned to him.

"I spoke true Sarah. I offer help not through malice, or revenge; my interest is genuine. It seems our fates are entwined, why fight that?" The evening breeze played between the folds of his vast cloak, and for the first time Sarah felt the coolness of the night.

Suddenly a clock began striking the hour. The refrain hummed through Sarah's mind; she remembered the labyrinth, and her race against time to save Toby.

"It seems the party is over, and time is short" Jareth intoned.

Another peal of the bell-like chime gave truth to his words. She glanced into the ballroom, which had a transient clarity, almost like it was dissolving as the revellers broke into small groups, retrieving their cloaks and heading into the Venetian night.

She looked towards the Goblin King again, who watched her intently.

 _What answer can I give, what choice do I have, I don_ _'_ _t want to hurt anyone_ , she thought, reluctant to embrace the small spark of her which thrilled at the prospect of adventure.  
 _Our fates are entwined_ , he had said. Hadn't she known all along, even during those silent years when she'd begun to wonder whether he'd existed at all? Wasn't that why she had never entirely forgotten him?

The clock struck insistently.

_I wonder if there will be thirteen chimes in this land of make believe?_

She stepped towards him, the Goblin King… Jareth.  
In a swift, graceful manoeuvre he swept his cloak from his shoulders and placed it carefully, reverently, around her, pulling her close and looking deep into her eyes.

"Your decision, Sarah?" he asked, releasing her gently.

She closed her eyes; the clock chimed thirteen, as she had known in her heart it would, and she gave the briefest nod. She felt a tender touch as he stroked a loose strand of hair from her face, and she opened her eyes to see why he waited, why they were still in this rapidly altering dream world.

"You must do it; this is your creation" he explained.

She looked surprised; deep down she still believed all this was his doing, despite his denials. The ballroom beyond was darkened and strange. Sarah looked closely for the first time in a while and horrified realisation dawned - they couldn't go that way, for the room was solidifying; the colours were less lifelike, less fluid; it was becoming a mere painting once more. The vibrancy became insubstantial, fading all the while as life became art once again.

That Sarah was the powerful one was a daunting, wonderful prospect.  _All the wonders that ever were_ , she thought…  _If you are brave enough_ …

She closed her eyes, pulled the cloak tight around her, and hesitantly raised her hand, their roles totally reversed. She felt his hand close around hers, and focused hard on recalling the labyrinth. Instinct guided her and with slow, measured steps Sarah walked to the edge of the balcony…

They were falling, fast, the wind roaring in her ears…  _If you are brave enough_ _…_  and then the world flared gold…  _all the wonders that ever were_ _…_  and they were flying. Sarah felt a lightness in her heart that she never realised had been missing; she saw vivid light become a beautiful indigo night sky, dotted with brilliant stars. She felt complete, falling into the unknown with the Goblin King beside her. A new world of possibility presented itself, and she was ready for whatever lay ahead.


End file.
